


Burden

by JuliaJekyll



Series: Good Omens Two Shots [8]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Praise Kink (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, Insecure Crowley (Good Omens), Kissing, Language, Light Angst, Love, M/M, Neck Kissing, Pre-Apocalypse, Snogging, Sweet/Hot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24245641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuliaJekyll/pseuds/JuliaJekyll
Summary: An offhand comment of Sister Mary's leaves Crowley feeling not only worried about the coming Apocalypse, but insecure about his eyes. Aziraphale, who obviously thinks they're lovely, comforts him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Good Omens Two Shots [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1545001
Comments: 24
Kudos: 192





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a re-watch of Good Omens. 
> 
> I could do a second chapter?!

Aziraphale was feeling terribly anxious. He’d been listening to music before Crowley had called, but now he was pacing in silence, occasionally biting his nails or wringing his hands. Gabriel’s warning about the approaching Apocalypse had been concerning enough, but now he’d found out that Crowley was involved. And not just involved, but playing an integral role.

As Aziraphale thought of his boyfriend, a small smile spread across his face. He and Crowley had been dating for going on five years now, ever since he’d finally broken down and admitted that he wanted Crowley forever and always had. The intensity of the kisses they’d exchanged that night still tingled on his lips every time he thought about it.

What he wanted, right now, was to kiss Crowley. Crowley loved Earth; that was who he was. It was one of the main things that he and Aziraphale had in common; one of the things that had always drawn the pair of them together. And it was for this reason that Aziraphale knew that Crowley was going to be in need of comfort. He was going to need someone to hold him, to reassure him that somehow they’d make everything alright, to kiss the breath out of him until he forgot, however briefly, what was about to happen.

Aziraphale glanced at the shop door, looked out the windows. Any moment now, his lover’s black Bentley would be rolling up, and the being he adored more than anything on Earth or beyond it would step out, needing him. He was going to be more than ready to help.

* * *

_“I was expecting funny eyes, or teensy-weensy little hoofikins. Or a wittle tail!”_

As ridiculous as that entire sentence had been, the main thing Crowley had taken from it, the main thing that kept repeating over and over in his mind, was the single phrase _funny eyes._

Funny eyes.

 _Funny eyes,_ Crowley thought. _Like mine._

He knew, of course, that the nun hadn’t meant anything by it; she hadn’t even seen his eyes, after all, as he’d been wearing sunglasses. But that was the whole issue, wasn’t it? He was sick to death of having to wear sunglasses everywhere. True, he’d managed to integrate them rather seamlessly into his overall aesthetic over the years, but it would be so much better if he didn’t have to; if he could simply walk around like a normal person without having to worry about people trying to perform an exorcism on him.

Once, centuries ago, he’d swallowed his pride and appealed to Lord Beelzebub, asking her whether he could get a new body that had human eyes. Her response had been an unequivocal ‘no’, which had been unsurprising, but still disappointing. The serpent eyes were Crowley’s mark, his penance, the indicator he’d always have to carry of who and what he was. And he hated it.

He’d only come to hate it more since he and Aziraphale had got together. Aziraphale’s eyes were the most beautiful clear blue, and Crowley wished that his were something similar, or at least that they looked human enough that he could take off his sunglasses, look Aziraphale in the eyes, and tell him how much he loved him in broad daylight. What a dream come true that would be.

Against his will, he glanced up at the rearview mirror. He gritted his teeth and tightened his hands around the wheel at the sight of his ever-present sunglasses. He even felt he had to wear them when driving his own car; how utterly fucked was that? It simply wasn’t fair.

A low, bitter laugh escaped him. How much of being a demon could be said to be ‘fair’, anyway?

He needed Aziraphale. They needed to make a plan; they had to work out how to stop the world ending, but first he just needed to see his boyfriend, to be wrapped up in his arms and kissed and told that he was loved.

 _Funny eyes,_ he thought again, and frowned. What if Aziraphale thought they were funny too? He took one hand off the wheel, balled it to a fist, and pounded it a few times against his thigh. Screw Beelzebub. Screw Hell. Screw everyone who looked at him and thought there was something wrong.

Screw the Apocalypse.

A strangled, angry sound escaped Crowley’s throat. Everything inside him felt twisted, although nothing had really changed. He pushed the gas pedal to the floor. He needed to be with his angel.

* * *

Crowley was used to playing it cool. He did it every day, in various contexts, and he could manage it in front of his angel as well. When at last he made it to the bookshop and came inside, he didn’t fall immediately into Aziraphale’s arms. He didn’t break down sobbing and complain about how much he disliked his snake eyes. Instead, he coolly took his jacket off and threw it onto the sofa, then asked Aziraphale whether he had any scotch in.

Aziraphale, of course, made haste to pour him a glass, and Crowley sat down with it, trying to look as casual as possible. “Eleven years,” he said. “That’s how long it’s going to be before he comes into his full power.”

“So that’s how long we have to stop it,” Aziraphale mused, gazing into his own glass. He looked up at Crowley again. “Dear, take your sunglasses off. You’re still wearing them.”

“I know.” Crowley drained his drink.

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, looking at him critically. “Any reason why you’re still wearing them?”

Instead of answering, Crowley pushed his tumbler back in Aziraphale’s direction. “Another, if you please, angel.”

Aziraphale poured the scotch. Crowley took a sip. “Good stuff,” he commented unnecessarily.

“Yes, well.” Aziraphale tossed back the last of his own scotch, then refilled his tumbler. “I’m terribly sorry you had to be so deeply involved in this, darling. Of course you know I’ll do anything I can to help.”

Crowley stared down at his lap, not saying anything.

“Crowley?”

“Hm?”

“You do know I’m going to support you, yes? Whatever your plan is; whatever we’ve got to do. I’m here for you.”

Something inside Crowley seemed to crack at that statement. With a surge of irritation, he banged his glass down on the table. “Nice of you, angel.”

Aziraphale looked surprised. “Whatever do you mean, love?”

Crowley spun his glass around, watching its edges roll along the polished surface of the table. Emotion was beginning to make its way up from the corner of his stomach where he’d tried to stash it, and he could already tell it wasn’t going to be pretty. There were two ways this could go: he could lash out, or he could break down.

He bit his lip. It had to be the latter. He had too little guaranteed time left with Aziraphale to project his anger onto him now. He let go of his glass and looked up at Aziraphale. “Come here,” he said quietly.

Aziraphale set his glass down and did as he asked, crossing the room to sit down beside Crowley, not touching him. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked softly.

Crowley kept his mouth shut and let his body speak for him: he folded himself up and crawled into Aziraphale’s lap, burying his face in the angel’s shoulder, feeling his sunglasses dig into the space around his funny eyes.

Aziraphale’s arms came around him. “Oh, sweetheart. I can’t imagine how stressful it must have been for you to have to start this whole thing. I’m so sorry. I’m here, though, I promise. I’ll do whatever you think will help.” He kissed the top of Crowley’s head.

Crowley lifted his face just enough to audibly say “’S not why I’m upset.”

Aziraphale was still for a moment. Crowley could almost feel him blinking in confusion. “The fact that the world might be ending in just over a decade…is _not_ why you’re upset?”

Crowley sat up to look Aziraphale in the face while still remaining in his lap. “Well, now I feel even dumber about what’s actually bothering me.”

“What is it, love?”

Crowley sighed. “When I brought the baby to the hospital, the nun I gave him to said she’d been expecting him to have ‘funny eyes’.”

Aziraphale looked uncertain for a second, but then he looked at Crowley’s sunglasses and seemed to understand. “Oh,” he said. “I see.”

Crowley hung his head. “I know it’s hardly the worst of our problems at the moment, but it just made me feel sort of…” he shrugged. “I just don’t need to be reminded all the time, you know? I already have to hide them; it’s nice when I can sort of forget why, but then someone says something like that and…I dunno.”

“It hurts you.” Aziraphale hugged him. “I’m sorry you have to carry this burden, my dear. If it helps at all, I’ve never found your eyes funny.”

Crowley managed a small smile. “’Preciate it, angel.”

“They’re unique. Expressive and lovely.” Aziraphale smiled back. “I’d like to see them, if I may.”

Crowley hesitated, but only for a moment. He’d never been good at denying Aziraphale. His hand was steady as he reached up to take his glasses off.

Aziraphale only looked into his eyes for a second, affection shining in his gaze, before he pulled Crowley close and kissed him. The sunglasses fell from Crowley’s fingers as he kissed back, reaching up to hold Aziraphale’s face in his hands. Aziraphale clutched at him tightly, pressing their bodies together, opening his mouth against Crowley’s.

Shivers ran through Crowley, chased by a lustful energy that compelled him to throw one leg over Aziraphale’s lap and straddle him. Up on his knees he was taller than the angel, and he used the height advantage to intensify the kiss, sliding his tongue into Aziraphale’s mouth and pushing down into his body. Aziraphale’s hands slid from his waist up his back, eventually tangling in his hair, and Crowley moaned in pleasure, rolling his hips against the angel’s.

In a flash of motion and angelic strength, Aziraphale tossed Crowley onto his back. Crowley was surprised for a split second, but then he kicked off his shoes and adjusted so that he was lying down on the sofa. Aziraphale climbed on top of him, tangling their legs together, sinking into another kiss.

Crowley reached up and brushed his fingers against his neck, signaling what he wanted as Aziraphale’s tongue stripped away his ability to speak. Aziraphale, always attentive, leaned down to kiss his neck. Crowley arched against him, loving the pressure of his boyfriend’s mouth against his throat. He’d always loved being kissed there.

After a few moments, Aziraphale raised his face to look at Crowley again. Crowley didn’t hide his eyes; he kept them open, letting them show his love. He’d always worn his heart on his sleeve when it came to Aziraphale, but when they were alone he could show him more blatantly; could be as clear as he liked. He pulled the angel in for another kiss, fingers gripping the back of his head, not letting go.

“Angel, I love you,” he said.

“I love you, dear. And I’m here for you. We’re going to figure this out.” Aziraphale leaned close to Crowley’s face as if to kiss him again, but then just lightly ran his tongue along Crowley’s lower lip. Crowley groaned.

“Teasing me, angel…”

“Well, I think figuring out how to save the world can wait for a bit, don’t you? After all, the Antichrist has only just been born.” He gave Crowley a kiss. “Tell me what you want, gorgeous.” 


	2. Chapter 2

Being asked what he wanted wasn’t something that Crowley was used to, so he froze up a little at Aziraphale’s command. Fortunately, Aziraphale, who knew as well as Crowley did what it was like to have very few genuine choices in one’s existence, understood this and went back to kissing Crowley’s neck to give him a chance to think. 

  
_Compliments_ , absurdly, was the first thing that came to his mind. Don’t get him wrong; he liked a good blow job as much as the next demon, but one could get a blow job anywhere (not that Crowley had ever wanted one from anyone but Aziraphale, but the point stood). Compliments from an angel were special; particularly an angel one was in love with. 

  
And so, when Aziraphale pulled away from Crowley’s neck and looked at him expectantly, Crowley swallowed and said “I’d like you to compliment me.” 

  
“Oh, well, that shall be no trouble at all, my dear!” Aziraphale shifted off of Crowley and gathered him into his arms instead. He kissed him just under the ear and said softly “You are rather unbearably handsome, and your hair is looking fabulous this evening, if I may say so.” He raised one hand to run it through Crowley’s shoulder-length locks, digging his fingers lightly into his scalp. His other hand slid down Crowley’s side, coming to rest on his hip, where he squeezed gently. “You’ve got a lovely, lean body that feels absolutely perfect against mine, and holding you is an absolute pleasure.” 

  
Crowley cuddled closer to Aziraphale as he moved his hair aside to kiss the back of his neck. He closed his eyes, his skin tingling pleasantly with a mixture of arousal and pride that he could be so attractive to his angel. 

  
Aziraphale’s hand wandered lower, past Crowley’s hip and to his leg. “Your thighs, in particular, are ever so alluring. Especially in these tight trousers.” His fingers flexed on Crowley’s leg, and Crowley pressed his knees together slightly. Things were stirring in his groin, and he really was rather hoping to get off sooner or later, but for now, he was content to stay still and just listen to Aziraphale’s praise. 

Aziraphale seemed to notice him shifting. His wandering hand landed on Crowley’s stomach, skipping neatly over his crotch. Bastard. 

  
“You’re beautiful, Crowley, and you’re also incredibly determined and clever. I’ve never known a demon to be so creative with their wiles, and when you want something, you tend to get it. That’s why I’m so confident that we can stop the world from ending.” He kissed the back of Crowley’s head. “I love watching you enjoy this planet. The way you light up when you hear music you like; the way you adore that car of yours – even if your driving does occasionally terrify me.” 

  
Crowley chuckled a little and shifted again, trying to find an angle at which there’d be a bit more space in his trousers for his hardening cock. Aziraphale’s touch, not to mention his words, were really doing it for him. 

  
“Are you alright, dear?” Aziraphale asked. “You’re fidgeting.”

  
“Cock’s hard,” Crowley said, by way of explanation. 

  
Aziraphale laughed. “Yet another wonderful thing about you: your bluntness.” 

  
“Not gonna lie to you, angel.” 

  
“I should think not.” Aziraphale pressed his hand into Crowley’s stomach, pulling the demon tight against him. “Can you turn and look at me, my love?” 

  
“Sure.” Crowley rolled over, not bothering to conceal his growing erection, and looked into Aziraphale’s soft blue eyes. Aziraphale stroked his cheek with one hand, his gaze loving. 

  
“And your eyes,” the angel said, “are breathtaking. That amber shine – I’ve never seen the like. I’m privileged to be able to look into them.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley’s forehead and smiled at him. At the same time, his hand slid down Crowley’s body, toward his crotch. “Now, shall we do something about that hard cock you mentioned?” 

  
“That’d be good,” Crowley gasped, as Aziraphale pushed him back slightly to give himself space. With both hands, he reached down to unfasten Crowley’s trousers and reach inside. Crowley helped by pushing them down his legs and kicking them off, along with his pants. When he was naked from the waist down, Aziraphale wrapped a hand around his erection and began to stroke it slowly. 

  
“Oh,” Crowley sighed, and his eyes drifted shut. 

  
“No, no, dear,” Aziraphale said, his hand still moving at a glacial pace. “Eyes open. Look at me. Let me see you.” 

  
Crowley opened his eyes, and Aziraphale rewarded him by speeding up. “That’s it, dear. You never need to hide from me. I want to look at your gorgeous eyes. I want to see how they look when my hand makes you come.” 

  
“Oh, angel…” Wanting to reciprocate somehow, Crowley reached out and pressed his own hand against the bulge in Aziraphale’s trousers, making the angel groan under his breath. “Made an…an effort for me, did you?” Crowley panted, thrusting instinctively into Aziraphale’s fist. He wasn’t going to last long; he could already tell. The stress of finding out about the Apocalypse and having to deliver the Antichrist had left his body straining for some sort of release, and an orgasm definitely qualified. 

  
“Naturally, darling,” Aziraphale said, his own voice a bit breathier than usual. “Always.” He held eye contact as he moved his hand even faster, and Crowley couldn’t help moaning. “That’s it, sweetheart. I want to hear you as well.” He leaned in to give Crowley a quick but intense kiss, then resumed looking him in the eyes. It might have been awkward on another day, but today, it was incredibly arousing. Crowley sped up his thrusts and rubbed at Aziraphale through his trousers. 

  
“Angel, I wanna come…” 

  
“Go on, Crowley. Don’t hold yourself back. Come for me, love.” 

  
Crowley’s eyes closed involuntarily as his groin tightened with his impending orgasm, but he forced them open, wanting to let Aziraphale see them. He bit his lip and groaned loudly as he came messily on Aziraphale’s hand, his pleasure fleeting but satisfying. 

  
When Aziraphale had milked every bit of come from Crowley, Crowley began fumbling with Aziraphale’s trousers. “Let me…” 

  
“It won’t be long, I’m afraid, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “You’ve got me rather…tightly wound.” 

  
“I’ll show you tight.” Crowley pulled Aziraphale’s trousers and pants down to reveal his erect penis and made a tight fist around it. Aziraphale gasped as Crowley began to work him with practiced, controlled jerks of his forearm. “That’s right, angel, come on. You did so well getting me off; you’re perfect. Now let me see you come too.” 

  
“Oh, gracious.” Aziraphale tensed and clutched at Crowley’s hair, wrapping it around his hand to pull Crowley in to meet his lips. Crowley didn’t ease up on Aziraphale’s cock as he kissed back, opening his mouth against the angel’s, licking at his lips. 

  
“Oh, my!” Aziraphale cried, and Crowley felt a splatter of come hit his hand. He rubbed Aziraphale through it and then kissed him again, sweetly, lovingly. 

  
They stared into each other’s eyes for a moment before they both broke into wide grins. “That was just what I needed,” Crowley remarked. 

  
“Good,” Aziraphale replied. “I daresay our minds are much clearer now.” He kissed Crowley one more time. “I love you, and I love your eyes.” 

  
“Me too. On both counts,” Crowley said tenderly. He smiled. “Now, shall we clean up and have a drink? We did just discover that Armageddon is coming up, after all.” 

  
“Yes, that sounds ideal,” Aziraphale said. He pressed his lips to Crowley’s forehead. “Remember, dear: you’re not bearing this burden, or any other, alone. Not as long as I’m here.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always appreciated <3


End file.
